


In Your Arms

by clgfanfic



Category: Soldier of Fortune Inc.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 09:59:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a sequel to "In Your Arms," set after the aired episode "Surgical Strike"</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Your Arms

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Don't Ask, Don't Tell #4 under the pen name Duval.

I think the closest I came to losing C.J. was shortly after our trip to Libya for a surgical strike against the government.  It was in response to the Libyans bringing down a commercial jetliner, but that's really all I can say about it.

That was about three or four months after we'd become lovers.

C.J. went undercover with an IRA cell in Libya, and he got caught.  Looking back, he was probably captured because we needed him to keep the shamrock boys occupied while Benny Ray and I "liberated" the weapons and explosives we needed to pull off the strike.  If we'd been able to guide the bombs to the target like we'd first planned, we wouldn't have needed to enter the IRA camp, and C.J. wouldn't have gotten caught.  But that's all hindsight.  We did go in and he did get caught.

Now, I've already told you about our trip to Bosnia – the one that led to the two of us becoming lovers – and how it brought up a lot of old ghosts for C.J., ghosts that were all tied to his time as a POW in Libya back in '91.  So going back to Libya, and then ending up a prisoner again…  Well, I have to admit, I wasn't sure he'd be able to hold out in the interrogation.  Not that I thought he'd talk right off the bat.  I was just worried that if they worked him for too long, he'd slip back to '91 and we might get hung out to dry.

It's kind of funny – in a sad kind of way – when you think about it.  His lover doubted, but Benny Ray, who has his moments with "his majesty", was completely convinced that C.J. wouldn't give us up.  I think the Major was sure he wouldn't either, or he never would've let C.J. come along.  And damn if they weren't right.

It was the doubts that almost came between C.J. and I.

You see, when we all got back to California, Matt gave us a few days off.  The time was for C.J. really, so he could heal up from the beating he took, and let me tell you, he needed every minute.

The first night back, C.J. and I headed out to the loft in Santa Ana.  I fixed him a good supper, complete with his favorite dessert.  After we ate, I made coffee and we were sitting in the living room, watching a movie on TV.  During a commercial he asked me if I'd thought he would crack, and I couldn't lie to him.  I told him the truth: that I wasn't sure he would, and I wasn't sure he wouldn't.

He went real quiet on me after that and we watched the rest of the movie without a single word being said.  Now you have to understand, that wasn't really all that unusual.  We'd gotten pretty comfortable with each other, so there had been several times that we'd watched a movie without saying anything.  But those times we'd been lying on the couch together (I call it cuddling), and this time he was sitting at one end and I was at the other.  There was no way I could have touched him even if I'd wanted to, and he was radiating "stay away" like a neon sign.

I knew he was mad at me, and I can't say that I blamed him.  I felt terrible that I'd had any doubts, but what could I do?  He'd asked me, I told him.  But I knew I had to make him understand that it didn't mean that I thought less of him, that I'd been wrong.  He was stronger than I'd expected, and I was proud of him, damned proud, but I knew saying so wasn't going to help.

C.J.'s a real straightforward man.  For him it came down to the simple fact that his lover hadn't had complete trust in him, and that, in turn, cast everything we had into doubt as far as he was concerned.

Not so for me, but I didn't know what to say or do to make him understand where I was coming from.

When the movie was over we both got ready for bed.

I beat him into the bed.  I think he was purposefully going slow, not really wanting to climb in with me, but he didn't really have a choice – not unless he wanted to drive back to the Silver Star, and it was a little late for that.  See, he'd moved out of his apartment and into the loft with me a month or so before the trip to Tripoli and most of his stuff was there, most of his clothes.  So it wasn't like he could just walk out and leave.

When he finally crawled into bed, I took a moment to check how the bruises on his chest and back were healing.  He looked almost as bad as I had after our trip to Bosnia.

"You want me to rub some arnica into these?" I asked.

"No, they don't feel too bad," he said, lying down and curling up on his side, his back to me.

I started to reach for the light, but changed my mind.  "Come on, C.J., talk to me."

"Nothing to say," he replied, his tone half-sad, half-defeated.

"The hell there's not," I snapped.  "Listen to me.  Okay, I had some doubts, but I was wrong.  You hung in there.  I don't know if I could've done that, but you did.  I know how Bosnia upset you; I thought–"

"You thought I'd freak out on you, as Huckleberry put it," he interrupted.

"I thought you'd been though hell, C.J.  You had every right–"

"I had no right to betray my unit, my country!" he snapped, rolling over and sitting up.  "I lost it in '91, Chance, I'll admit that, and it got Danny killed."

"You didn't kill your brother, C.J.," I argued.  "You told me what happened, remember?"

"So why'd you think I'd hand you and the others over?"

I started to answer him, but stopped, because I needed to understand that as much as he needed to.  I thought for a minute, then said, "Okay, look, you were pretty obsessed going into the operation.  I thought the Major was right to ground you, and when he changed his mind, I told him I didn't think it was a good idea, but it was his call."

"Then you thought I'd crack from the beginning."

"Wrong.  I thought you were too close to it.  Like Margo with Kepper, only worse."

C.J. snorted softly and shook his head.  "I tried that with Matt, but he didn't bite.  Said Margo's trouble with Kepper was personal, but I hated all Libyans on general principle… and I guess he was right.  I did."

"And now?"

C.J. looked down at his hands, folded tightly in his lap.  He sighed heavily and said, "And now I have to rethink my… feelings."

I smiled a little.  "Those kids got to you, didn't they?"

C.J. shrugged.  "Maybe…  Who said it first?"

The question caught me off guard, but I knew what he was asking.  He wanted to know who had been the first to say that they thought he would talk.  I wasn't sure I should tell him, but I knew he needed to know.  "Margo."

He snorted softly again and nodded.  "Makes sense," he said.

"Benny Ray said you wouldn't talk.  Even went a round with Margo about it, until the Major took us all down."

C.J. looked over, meeting my gaze to see if I was teasing him, or telling him the truth.  "You're serious?"

I nodded, saying, "I am."

"I'll be…"

"I think the Major agreed with him, but he never said one way or the other.  Just the feeling I got."

C.J. nodded, then asked, "Why did you?"

"Like I said, I thought you were obsessed.  And I don't think you've really dealt with what happened to your brother, or in Bosnia.  I thought the ghosts in your past might be too strong."

"They were strong," he admitted, then looked up and met my eyes again.  A small smile curled the corners of his mouth.  "When they had me…  I saw him."

"Who?"

"Danny."

"Your brother?" I asked, getting a little worried about his sanity.

He nodded again.  "A ghost, maybe, or just a hallucination.  But he was there with me."

"What did he say?" I asked, honestly curious.

He shook his head.  "Maybe someday, but I can't right now…  So, you thought I'd talk because I was obsessed."

"Yeah, I guess," I agreed.  "And, well, damn, C.J., what am I supposed to say?  I wasn't sure one way or the other.  And whatever doubts I did have, well, I was wrong.  Margo said you'd talk, Benny Ray said you wouldn't, the Major didn't say anything, and I heard what they were doing to you…  I wasn't sure _I_ wouldn't talk!  What was I _supposed_ to think?  Maybe I thought you'd talk, maybe I didn't.  To be honest, I wasn't sure what to think!  I didn't even know you were going to be there until you drove up in that truck!"  I took a deep breath, rubbed a hand over my scalp, and added, "Look, C.J., what I was feeling?  It wasn't about you…  I have my own ghosts to deal with."

He sat there for a moment, thinking about what I'd said, then he nodded once and looked up at me.  "All right, but answer me this, if something like that happens again, what do you think I'll do?"

I met his gaze and replied, "I think you'll tell them every bad joke you've ever heard or made up, but I know you won't betray us.  But you'll do whatever you have to in order to survive, because that's what we all do."

"Thanks, mate," he said, his expression softening a little for the first time that evening.

"C.J., you don't have to worry about what I think," I told him.  "All you have to know is: I love you, and I'm willing to spend my life with you.  That should tell you all you need to know about how I feel and what I think."

He smiled then, looking a little sheepish.  "Never doubted that, Chance."

"You going to let me put that arnica on your bruises now?"

He nodded, his cheeks going a little red.  "Yeah."

"Lay down.  I'll go get it."  I climbed out of bed and hurried to the bathroom.  I took a moment to water the snake, then grabbed the arnica and headed back to the bedroom.  C.J. had turned the light off and opened the curtain so the light from the streetlamps would let me see what I was doing.  He was lying down again.

I climbed back into bed and pulled the covers down so I could rub the ointment onto his back and chest.  I did my best to be pretty clinical about it, not letting my hands linger anywhere too long, and avoiding his nipples altogether.  But I had a good reason for that, I wanted to come back and do a little mouth to nub resuscitation and I didn't want to be eating the ointment.

He closed his eyes, enjoying the rub, and when I was done, I screwed the lid down and took the jar back to the bathroom, putting it up.  (C.J. tells me I'm as bad as Benny Ray about some things, but I choose to think of that as a compliment.  You would, too, if you'd ever seen his old apartment.)

I could hear him pulling off his pants and boxers while I was gone, but when I went back to the bed, I found C.J. sound asleep.  I grinned and decided to let him get some rest.  I could wait.  Sometimes that just makes it all the sweeter.  But, hours later, in the dim gray of pre-dawn, and after a trip to the head, I turned up the heat and slipped back into bed without waking my lover, who was curled up on his side.  After it warmed up a little, I pulled the covers down so I could see C.J. – all of him.

C.J.'s a lot better looking man than you might think at first.  He's compact, but strong and well proportioned, and when he's sleeping he gets an almost, well, angelic look on his face.  I think it's because all the ghosts are held at bay.  He gets the same look on his face after we've made love and we're just lying there, talking.  And over the past few months C.J. and I have laid out all the highlights of our lives – good and bad – but I know there's a lot more to this man I've fallen for. And I look forward to hearing all of it, because when he's not telling one of his "stories" he can be surprisingly deep and insightful – just one more reason I plan to spend the rest of my life making him happy.

And then there's that fat cock of his that fits me so perfectly…  I stared at it that morning, enjoying the rise and twitch.  After a while his hand reached down to hold and stroke it, making _me_ hard in the process.  Then, dream past, he let it fall to one side.

It was then that I knew I'd waited long enough.  I reached out and touched the warm skin on his arm and shoulder, caressing him.  After a few moments he moaned softly, his eyes fluttering open.  He gave me a half-smile, his expression a little silly because of his sleep-glazed eyes and tousled hair.  Then he looked down and saw my hard-on.

Still on our sides, we scooted closer together without a word passing between us.  One of my hands went to his waist, my fingertips reaching to tease across the skin at the base of his spine.  His lips brushed mine, then his tongue flickered teasingly across my mouth.

I caressed his forearm, his bicep, then his chest.  My fingertips grazed his nipples, and when I pinched the swollen flesh, his grip on my arm tightened and he ground his lips harder against mine.

I arched, pressing against him, my cock throbbing against his thigh.  He reached behind me and squeezed my cheek before his fingertips grazed me in an questioning invitation.

"Mmm," I said, "you know what I want?"

I felt his hard-on begin to swell and reached down to wrap my fingers around it.  I love the way his cock juts out from his body, his slit gaping like a tiny mouth.  Looking down I saw a drop of clear juice quiver on the tip, then drool down onto my fingers.  I shivered with desire, eager to have him, to feel him crammed into me to the hilt.  I wanted to celebrate his survival, and my own realization of his inner strength.  He'd come so far since our first mission in Bosnia, and I was proud of him, damned proud…  But I'm digressing.

Let's just say I was in the mood to be fucked – right then, right there, no foreplay – and I told him so.

His hands, already touching me, turned me over and I came up on my hands and knees.  Over my shoulder, I watched C.J. retrieve a condom and the KY from the nightstand drawer, shivering in anticipation.  He rolled the latex down his thick rod, then squeezed out some of the lube and rubbed in onto himself, the process making his hips jerk.

Once he was good to go, he mounted me, his chest against my back, pumping my crack.  I felt the heat of his knob moving against me, then a rapidly increasing pressure as he pushed in.  I thrust back, groaning as he plowed deeply into me.

"Christ, Chance," he hissed, "you feel so damned good."

After a few blissful minutes of C.J. pistoning in and out of my chute, I reached back with one hand and grabbed his hip, stopping him in mid-pump.  I wiggled forward and dislodged him, then twisted around so I was lying under him.

"While I watch," I said to explain.

C.J. lifted my legs and I rested my ankles on his shoulders.  He pressed against me, but didn't penetrate.  I savored his heat as he throbbed against me, and when I couldn't wait any longer, I closed my fist around his balls and pulled him forward.  He slid into me, stretching me wide.  I let out a long sigh as I watched the last thick inch disappear.

C.J. pushed forward until his knees were tight against my ass, his hands planted on either side of my head.  I bucked and heaved under him, fucking myself on his hard-on.  I can tell you, the feel of his skin against my chest and the backs of my thighs is incredibly sexy and it always turns me on.

Before long he was pounding me like a man possessed.  His balls bounced against me at first, then drew up tight against the base of his shaft.  His breath started to getting ragged and rough.  So I clasped my hands around his neck and growled into his ear, encouraging him to drill me harder.

He did.  "I'm gonna blow, mate," he cried, his hips slamming against me and making the bed creak and groan.

I started jerking my cock, readying myself to blow right along with him.  Then I felt his cock flex inside of me, and he was ballooning the tip of the rubber buried up my chute.  C.J. shuddered and bucked, the sweat pouring off him, his hot breath blasting against my neck.

"Oh, yeah…  Oh, bloody hell…  Oh…  Chance…"

I cried out, spraying both our chests and bellies with my load.  My orgasm was so intense I saw stars.  Afterwards, I lay under him, my cock pinned between us, his still deep inside my body, and both of us panting like a couple of tired dogs.

Eventually he softened and slipped free.

He flopped boneless onto the bed, then stripped off the condom and leaned over to drop it into the small wastepaper basket under the nightstand.  When he turned back, I pulled the sheet up over us and cuddled him close.

"Damn, C.J.," I breathed, "you're good."

He chuckled softly.  "I was gonna say the same thing, mate."

I grinned, then reached out and cupped his chin in my hand.  Leaning in, I kissed him.  When I pulled back he had that silly look on his face I love.

"I've been thinking about last night," I said softly.

"Let it go, Chance," he said.  "I have."

I shook my head.  "I went back and really thought about what I was feeling in Tripoli, and I wanted you to know I really didn't know what was going to happen."

"Better than assuming I'd break."

"Is it?"

He nodded, saying, "I think so."

"I think I was afraid to assume anything at that point.  To be honest, I didn't want you there.  I just had a feeling it might get ugly…"

"Ugly, but not too ugly – not like Bosnia."

"That's hindsight talking."

He snorted and grinned.  "Yeah, it is.  I'm not saying it wasn't bad… it just wasn't as bad as Bosnia… or '91."

"I'm sorry," I said, noting the change in his expression.  "I didn't want to dig up old bones again."

He shook his head.  "They're bones I have to understand… bury once and for all, on my terms."

"I'll be here, if you need me."

He smiled.  "I know…  It gives me the strength to try and do it."

"You'll do it."

"You sure?" he asked, and I could hear the tease in his voice.

"Very damned sure," I replied, leaning in to kiss him again and feeling both of us begin to stir again…


End file.
